Memory

She lied to me, why can’t I lie to them?

It won’t hurt them; they don’t want to know the truth.

Because my bleeding would be the proof…

The proof that perhaps there is more than what meets the eye

Maybe more than what memory can provide.

Why are there so many questions? Why is my memory shot?

Is it really because I have smoked so much pot?

Did I smoke herb and forget or smoke it so I would forget?

Did something happen to me?

No…no way…you’re just crazy/

But what made me?

I don’t want…to deal with this.

I just want…the blade’s bloody kiss.

I want it like never before.

I can’t deal with this, I want more…

More blood, and much deeper than ever before

Why? Because I am a fucking whore!!

So much rage and violence in me

So much that I am going fucking crazy

Heather L. Johnson

February 2003